Wanted
by PalePrincess
Summary: It's Christmas Eve. Hermione needed an escape from her dreaded reality. Voldemort reigns over Wizarding Britain, and Muggleborns continue to be persecuted. Hermione plays an active role in the resistance. Seasoned veteran, and skilled spy, Hermione is the Ministry's second most wanted criminal. But after tonight, a broken man with a grim tale, will change her life forever. HG/SS.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any works written by J.K Rowling.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this fic. It's my first Harry Potter fanfiction in almost two years! I have a tendency to delete old fics because I fell out of love with them or because I was not receiving any feedback (which leads me to think that no one is interested). I was scanning through HP prompts and became super motivated to give this a shot again. Please read and review! I really do enjoy critiques, it lets me know where to take my story :)

* * *

Chapter One: From Darkness to Light

_December 24, 2001_

Crisp winter winds swept throughout Britain. Shaded under the cover of darkness, a cloaked figure walked slowly down a snow covered street, in a quiet suburb of London. Residents never noticed the lone figure pass their conservatively decorated homes. An almost identical scene occurred across the block; within every house; families gathered together near their Christmas trees, and enjoyed the company of each other in their warm abodes.

But one house held no families, no trees or decorations. Fifty-two Wallace Street had not had occupants within it for three years. The home did not differ much from the rest. It was a bi level, family home, that had a "for sale" sign on its front yard. Two dentists lived there for almost a decade or so, with their daughter. Word around the street was that they moved to Australia, but that may not be true; no one on the block was particularly close to that family, the Grangers.

Surprisingly however, the figure quickened in the direction of that very house. Once next to the "for sale" sign, the cloak ceased its swishing, and the figure stopped. From its pockets, the person brandished a stick, and moved it in numerous directions as a voice, distinctly female, whispered faint words to the wind.

She then stopped, and proceeded to walk towards the front door. Once again, with stick in hand she whispered another word, "Alohomora." The lock clicked, and the woman opened the door with ease.

Quickly, she locked the door behind her, and gathered her surroundings. Darkness enveloped the house; drapes covered the windows of the Granger home, and the electricity was cut. The figure ran her finger across a coffee table in the living room, wiping off years of dust with one stroke. She went through every room, checking to see if she was truly alone in the abandoned home. When satisfied, she returned to the living room.

Using her stick, she pointed towards the hearth at the back wall, and flames spontaneously appeared. She then directed her attention to various lamps, and they too turned on as well. There was a solitary wooden chair in the center of the room, but the woman used her curious magic to transfigure it into a long, leather couch, and used her stick to move it across the room towards the fire place. The mantle of the fireplace was bare, so she decorated the top with two pictures of a family of three she held in her pocket; a woman, a man, and a small bushy-haired girl.

Finally, she cast her stick at a corner of the now warmly lit room. All that was in her direction was a discarded piece of newspaper, probably meant for the fire place. As her last act of magic, she turned the crumbled paper, into a colossal evergreen tree. The top hit the ceiling, and she conjured gold garlands to wrap around the branches, as well as sparkling ornaments to hang throughout the whole tree. It was more beautiful, and grander than any other tree on Wallace Street.

The figure then decided to dispose herself of her cloak, and she made her way to her new couch. After laying her folded cloak along its side, she plopped down on the smooth leather with little grace, and put her feet up over the armrest.

Once truly relaxed, the girl sighed. "That'll do" she said.

Hermione Granger was home.

Hermione felt as though she never had time for herself anymore. Day after day she was fighting what seemed like an endless war against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Harry and Ron had gone in search of more Horcruxes after the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Order thought it best for Hermione to stay in the UK to fight. Every member agreed that she was the most magically capable of the Golden Trio to defend the magical population at home, but Hermione knew the real reason. If they all went in search for Horcruxes again, there was a higher chance of them all dying at once if threatened. The Order could not handle another loss.

No Horcruxes were found at Hogwarts the day of the Battle, and the Trio discovered that there were more to destroy. Harry and Voldemort dueled, but their power was matched and "Priori Incantatem," occurred yet again. Luckily, Harry escaped in time before the Death Eaters could capture him, and those Order members who survived went into hiding. Voldemort had won that battle, but the war still raged on.

Wizarding London changed drastically since Hermione first arrived there ten years ago. All muggleborns were required to register to the Ministry. Many were without homes, and littered the streets. Hundreds were imprisoned, tortured, and if you were lucky, exterminated. To secure that all were accounted for, the Ministry, under the control of Lord Voldemort, developed a new branch of offices that belonged to the Pureblood Ancestry Commission, sister to the Muggleborn-Registration Commission. Employees of this Commission traced all magical ancestry through historical archives, genealogies, government records, and even Hogwarts documents, to compile a detailed list of the Pureblood population.

Pictures of the Order were on almost every post or building across Wizarding UK. Hermione was the Ministry's second most wanted person.

Daily, she risked her life walking through the streets of England, saving Muggleborns, and stopping the havoc Death Eaters caused. She had made a name for herself as a skilled dueler, but even more-so as an expert in Charms and the Polyjuice potion.

Using the hairs of lesser known Death Eaters, Hermione would use Polyjuice and spy on Death Eater revels. She killed many of them during her periods of disguise, members such as Thorfinn Rowle, Crabbe Sr., and her most recent and perhaps most notable Amycus Carrow.

Yesterday, Hermione, polyjuiced as Yvette Mongrene, a cousin of the Carrows, eliminated Amycus in a small scrimmage. After weeks of careful planning, Hermione developed a detailed lie, and convinced the Death Eaters that she was pregnant. Amycus, learning from a letter that she was pregnant, finally decided to leave the protection of Hogwarts to see his dear cousin. Amycus was a high ranking Death Eater, and since he organized most punishments inflicted on Hogwarts students, Kingsley decided that Amycus was Hermione's next target. Amycus sent a distress spell to other Death Eaters after realizing that this Yvette was not his real cousin, and a flurry of both Death Eaters and Order Members dueled each other among civilians. No Order members were harmed, but Amycus and a few other were killed. Hermione had succeeded.

But she was tired. The war had taken its toll on Hermione. Her appearances reflected the damage the war had on her internally. Although her hair was more tamed, and she had grown into a beautiful woman, the tale her eyes told was another story. Scars decorated her body, but she looked at them as a reminder, to never lose faith in the work Harry and the Order were trying to accomplish. She had seen horrible things in her short life, and she had matured from know-it-all bookworm, to a seasoned war veteran.

In a spur of the moment decision, Hermione returned to her family home. Her parents were still safe in Australia, and neither of them remembered their brilliant daughter. Death Eaters never learned of where she lived. But to be safe, Hermione set about a dozen powerful wards on the property before entering.

A series of memories flashed through her mind as she rested on the couch.

_December 24, 1987_

_Hermione ran to the Christmas tree in her living Room. The Grangers watched their young daughter with smiles as she slid across the wooden floor on her knees to the pile of presents around their Evergreen. _

"_Can I open this one Mummy?" Hermione asked. She held up a small, but thick present, covered in red and gold wrapping paper. _

"_Yes, but just that one_." _Mrs. Granger replied with a grin. _

_Every year the Grangers let little Hermione open one present on Christmas Eve, Hermione was always loved this tradition because she knew that most of her classmates needed to wait until Christmas morning to open theirs. She felt truly special._

_Young eight year old Hermione tore through the wrapping paper, but made a neat little pile that she could easily cleanup for her parents. She squealed when she saw her gift. _

"_Grimm Fairy Tales!" Hermione got up and ran to her parents, hugging both of them with equal ferocity, "Thank you!"_

_December 24__th__, 1992_

"_Thanks Dad…this is great…" Hermione didn't mean to fake her enthusiasm for her father's present, but she couldn't help but be slightly disappointed.  
'Mr. Weasley told me that a great gift for a young witch or wizard is to buy them a broom! I know that we bought you a rather generic one for your first year, but this is a top-notch model that's supposed to be extraordinarily fast!" Mr. Granger explained excitedly._

"_And stylish for that matter, dear," Mrs. Granger complimented the purple and silver colors that zig-zagged across the broom shaft._

_Hermione knew that she would never use this broom, but she loved that her parents were trying to embrace magic into their lives._

"_I absolutely love it, I'll use it when I see Harry and Ron."_

_December 24, 1995_

_Hermione sat with her mother on their brown, leather couch in the living room. Her father sat on his favorite rocking chair next to the fire place reading a copy of the Times. Hermione finished opening her one present, but no one in the family was quiet tired. The night before, her parents tried to bring up her schooling, and their feelings about her returning to Hogwarts. Tension was apparent.  
"Hermione dear," her mother began solemnly, "Do you have to return to Hogwarts once the holidays are over?"_

"_Mum…" Hermione did not want to have this conversation. Mrs. Granger on the other hand, did. "I know you won't tell us everything, but we're not oblivious, something bad is happening and your father and I are concerned for your safety." Mrs. Granger took a hold of her daughter's hand._

_Hermione could not bear to look into her pleading eyes, "Mum, it's really alright. There are slight…political and social inadequacies that the Ministry of Magic is handling the very best they can."  
"You're lying, Hermione." Mrs. Granger knew when her daughter was being deceitful, "I talked to Headmaster Wright at Clark's Hill Preparatory Academy, and he said that he would be more than happy to accept a student of your caliber. Your grades are more than satisfactory to be admit…"_

"_Please, Mother." Hermione respected her parents, and loved them dearly, but she couldn't go through this again, "I want to stay at Hogwarts. All of my friends are there. And they have provided me the best education any young witch or wizard could want. I understand your concern mum, but please, let me stay. It's only one more year."_

_Tears welled in Mrs. Granger's eyes, "I just don't want you to get hurt…"_

_Almost as if by reflex, Hermione too felt tears gather at her eyes. "I love you mum" Her mother quickly said the same, and they both embraced each other and cried. Mr. Granger soon came over to comfort the two most important women in his life._

Present

Hermione found herself standing next to the fireplace once she emerged from her subconscious. She use to cry often at memories of her parents, but soon the tears stopped. Crying would not solve her problems, and at times she thought she had simply run out of tears.

At the thought, she couldn't help but discredit that assumption, "That's impossible" she whispered.

But tonight wasn't meant to dwell on ill feelings. She needed a brief escape from reality.

She told Kingsley not to contact her tonight. Professor McGonnagall took over as Head of the Order once Dumbledore was murdered, but she decided to travel with Harry and Ron while Kingsley directed the local operations. Hermione was a member of a small group of active Order member resisters, but next to Kingsley and Remus, she was the next highest ranking member. Kingsley was not thrilled with her request.

Earlier today

"_This isn't a 9-5 job, Hermione. You can't just take off." Kingsley sat at a small make-shift desk in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, head in his hands, quite frustrated._

"_Kingsley, all I'm asking for is one night, one night to myself." Hermione stood near the small window that was covered with heavy drapes for protection._

"_And what if I need you," Kingsley argued. "You are the best infiltrator I have. Remus is away trying to gather recruits from other wolf packs, and if we are both honest with ourselves, Longbottom is not the best with reconnaissance work." Hermione had to chuckle at the gruffness in Kinglsey's accent when he talked about Neville. Although Neville proved himself at Hogwarts, and was inducted into the Order by McGonagall, he was still just Neville._

"_Right now, the Death Eaters are probably trying to decide who's going to act as the new Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, and you yourself said that Harry and Ron are closer to destroying Slytherin's locket…" Kingsley let out an undignified snort, but Hermione continued, "Voldemort and his followers are regrouping."_

_Kingsley sighed and looked up from his desk, Hermione finished by saying, "I know how they operate Kingsley, and you know it. One night, please."_

_After what seemed like a short staring contest, Kingsley conceded. "Fine, but just one._

Present

_And here I am, _Hermione thought to herself, _now, time to enjoy myself. _

Hermione walked back to the front door, and saw that her parent's left their dinky umbrella holder.

_How'd I know they'd leave it behind. _Hermione knew her parent's all too well.

She grabbed the holder, and placed it on the floor of her living room.

"Alright," Hermione pulled out her wand, "Let's have some fun." She cast a quick charm, and Hermione and the once unattractive umbrella holder became shorter, but wider. Before her was now a small radio. She bent down to turn it on, and tuned it to a station she knew would be perfect for the occasion.

"Happy Holidays and Happy Christmas Eve from QM143.5, now its time to continue our hour of commercial free Holiday tunes…"

Once the music began, Hermione started to truly get into the spirit of the season. She started to flick her wand throughout the house. All the lights were lit, every room held at least one Christmas decoration. With a spring in her step she found herself singing each song that played on the radio.

Hermione moved through her kitchen with the grace of a dancer. She made herself a cup of hot cocoa, and then twirled through the dining room. The doorway to the dining room directly led to the living room, and Hermione could clearly see her transfigured tree. She was proud of her skills at that moment, watching the ornaments gleam. As she further examined the tree, she noticed something missing.

Hermione ran up her stairs and stopped at a string that hung from the second floor ceiling. She pulled it down, and a set of stairs descended. The stairs led to her attic, and Hermione loved the attic. The Grangers never left it cluttered, and it was pretty spacious, so she could comfortable crawl through.

When Hermione was six years old, her father had found a false bottom on the floor of the attack. Under a wooden plank, the Granger's decided to use that space to make a time capsule. Inside the capsule was various objects and pictures that were special to the Grangers, and defined their family. One such object, located in a small blue box, was a Christmas ornament Hermione's grandmother gave the family when the year before she passed.

This ornament was special to Hermione. Green with gold lettering, the ornament was crystalized, and shined bright. It was a small model of a book, but not just any book, Hermione and her grandmother had a passion for anything Jane Austen, and their favorite book was Pride and Prejudice. The ornament had been a present for Hermione in her fifth year, and she treasured it. She was afraid to put in on her tree because she thought she would break it. When her Grandmother did pass the following Spring, Hermione placed the ornament in this false bottom with all of the Granger treasures.

This Christmas Eve, Hermione wanted to finally put this ornament on her tree.

After gathering it in her hands, Hermione walked slowly back downstairs, careful to not trip or drop her find. Once back at the Christmas tree, she paused, and looked all around it to find the perfect spot. This ornament should be the centerpiece of this tree, and Hermione decided that near the very top would be the most ideal placement.

As she stretched her limbs, and reached as high as she could go, Hermione's concentration was immediately interrupted.

***Knock***

Hermione lost her balance, and almost fell completely to the ground. She stabled herself, and drew her wand from her pocket. She was afraid to remove all of the light she produced in the house, someone could have seen it through a crack, and she didn't dare look out her window, since she didn't know how many could be out there and who would be looking back.

_Did the neighbors see me? Or am I just imagining things. _Hermione couldn't be sure. She was sure that she heard the knock, but perhaps it wasn't a knock at all. _It could just be the wind. _

Then there was the other, more ominous possibility; Death Eaters. _Did they find me? _Hermione perished at the thought.

Casting a cushioning charm on her feet, as to not make noise, Hermione silently made her way to the front door, wand at the ready. Once she reached the entrance, she waited. She could better distinguish the source of the sound if she was closer to it.

For a few minutes she stood there, listening to both her surroundings and the increased pace of her heart. But nothing happened, no sound but the whistling wind could be heard. Slowly, Hermione began to relax her posture. Years of constant worrying made her overly suspicious.

_Besides, _Hermione remembered, _the Intruder Charm I cast before I came in would have activated. No one can slip past that, magical or not. _

Using logic to calm herself, Hermione let out a steady breath, and slumped her shoulders. She turned to walk back to the living room.

***Knock***

She didn't have time to blink before she redrew her wand. Frozen in place, Hermione was sure that she heard a knock.

_If it was a neighbor, they would be knocking quicker than that, _she reasoned. _But Death Eaters don't usually knock…_

Hermione knew she had to open the door.

***Knock….Knock***

Two now, and not in rapid succession. _Labored knocks? _ Hermione's fear was almost surpassed by her curiosity. But Hermione backed away from the door, near the steps that were just behind her. Wand still before her, Hermione tried to quickly think of how to act.

_I need to get out of here._

But before she could, Hermione's curiosity again got the better of her.

***Click* **The door had been unlocked.

Slowly, the knob turned. Hermione approached the door, not really knowing why. Her body and her mind were not cooperating. She was convinced that something magical was on the other side of the door, and skilled duelist as she was, Hermione knew better than to approach something so dangerous. But she couldn't stop moving forward.

The wind blew with great ferocity then, and whoever was trying to enter, lost their balance, and crashed into the door, pushing it fully open. The figure held onto the doorknob, but fell to their knees.

Hermione eyes fell then onto the face of the intruder. Scratches ran deep across the face of a pale man, covered in his own blood. On one eye, and ugly bruise swelled to massive proportions that even his lanky, black hair couldn't hide. His clothes were drenched from snow that he repeatedly fell into trying to balance himself in his great pain while outside. He moaned in agony as he tried to life himself from the ground. But his efforts were in vain. He was a broken man.

She was in shock. Hermione knew this man, but had not seen him in over four years. He was the enemy; the man who committed the ultimate betrayal. Yet here he was, bloody, bruised, a shell of what he had become. It was as if fate herself delivered Hermione the greatest opportunity—to destroy the man who murdered the greatest wizard of all time; Severus Snape.

But then, this evil, soulless traitor uttered two words that caused Hermione to lower her wand.

"Help….me…." the man heaved. Their eyes locked, chestnut meeting obsidian, and Hermione knew what she had to do.

"Grab on to me, Professor."

Hermione helped the fallen Death Eater.

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? Want more? Hate it? Have any ideas of where you want me to take this fic? Let me know! I love reviews! Please don't flame, but feel free to critique. I appreciate feedback! And to those who were wondering, yes; I write long chapters. It's more fun that way. This chapter had less dialogue because I wanted it to be informational. Hopefully, that came across as helpful and not boring. Oh! And Remus didn't die! Awesome right? :) Can't wait to get started on Chapter Two!


End file.
